


Professionalism

by Riddle_Me_This_Darling



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Eve Moneypenny & Q Friendship, M/M, Not so secret crush, One Shot, One-Sided Attraction, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 17:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11189847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riddle_Me_This_Darling/pseuds/Riddle_Me_This_Darling
Summary: Post-Spectre. Eve and Q have a little chat.





	Professionalism

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever James Bond fanfiction.  
> I'm new to this 'fandom' (is this a fandom, I have no clue), so please bear with me if there are any errors as I'm still getting to grips with the characters from the Daniel Craig films.

* * *

 

 

**Professional**

_Adjective_

1)      Relating to or belonging to a profession.

 

2)      Engaged in a specified activity as one's main paid occupation rather than as an amateur.

 

 

_Noun_

3)      Engaged in a specified activity as one's main paid occupation rather than as an amateur.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The Quartermaster of MI6 was by all means a professional, even if his appearance leaned towards the eccentric. With a tablet in hand and a steaming mug of Earl Grey in the other, Q strode through Q-Branch, ignoring the stares he received from his minions when their heads popped up from behind their monitors. Today was meant to be his day off but he had received an urgent email from R. He needed to fill out important paperwork and since his two cats, Turing and Olive were being hyperactive terrors, he decided to come into MI6 for peace. Entering his office, Q closed the frosted glass door and threw himself into his desk chair. Half of his tea spilt over the sides of the mug and landed on his burgundy cardigan.

“For fucks sake,” he muttered, staring at the stain.

He was too exhausted for this, physically and mentally. He hadn’t been sleeping well of late. Rubbing his eye, Q brought the mug to his lips and took a sip of the remaining tea. He needed it.

Two weeks ago, Nine Eyes had been successfully halted and dismantled and MI6 was in full recovery mode. Two weeks ago, the 00 Programme had been promptly restored and 004 and 009 were quickly dispatched to Somalia and Kabul, both sent to investigate two potential terror plots. Two weeks ago, James Bond left London with Madeline Swann, never to return again. It had been two weeks and Q still found himself hoping that the agent would stroll into his office one day, all swagger and full to the brim with cocksure arrogance. The agent’s departure shouldn’t have such a lasting impact on him, Q knew this, it was unprofessional. It couldn’t be helped, however. Q help his emotions. He wasn’t actually an android. He had gone to great length to keep his distance from the 00’s and field agents so that he could maintain a professional relationship with them. Agents came and went, either from retirement (voluntary or forced), or they would die. It helped nobody when the members of Q-Branch became too attached to their agents. Handlers had to be cool and collected to do their jobs successfully. He wasn’t without empathy, neither were the minions; they enjoyed swapping banter and teasing one another back and forth, but that was all. Q-Branch did not exist for the purpose of forming friendships and mollycoddling. Their job was simply to help agents get from A to B and then back home, swiftly and efficiently. Q knew this. He knew this, yet he put himself in harm’s way for Bond. He flew across the world for Bond. He jeopardised his career for Bond – the whole of Q-branch. He had been foolish, allowed himself to get too close, but he knew Bond had been right. He had always been right.

“What are you doing here?”

“Jesus Christ, Moneypenny!” Q cried, clutching his chest. Her voice had startled him - he’d nearly leapt from his seat. Twisted around to glare at Eve, he felt a new watch patch forming near his ribs. There went the rest of his tea.

“Oops! I didn’t mean to scare you, Q, sorry,” Eve apologised. “I thought I saw you hurrying in this morning. Why are you here on your day off?”

“Paperwork,” Q answered flatly.

Eve rolled her eyes and tutted disapprovingly. She was always nagging Q for not taking enough holidays. 

“I don’t mind, Eve.” He said in a gentler tone. “When I’ve got things to do, I’d rather get them out of the way. I won’t be long.”

Turning away, he opened the laptop on his desk and turned it on. Whilst the machine started itself up, he began to type an email on his iPad. He managed one sentence when he felt fingers threading through his hair.

“Have you even bothered to brush your hair today?” Eve asked, poking fun at his appearance. “It’s always been a little wild but you look positively feral today, like a jungle boy.”

Q snorted and swatter her hands away, shaking his head.

“A jungle boy who wears Ozwald Boateng jumpers?” Q quipped before playfully sticking his tongue out. When Eve laughed, he smiled and turned his attention back to his tablet.

“You really are a child sometimes,” Eve said fondly. “I’m glad I’ve perked you up a bit though. You’ve been down recently, haven’t you?”

 Q shrugged but continued to type.

“You can talk to me, you know.” Eve continued. “I can’t judge anyone; I know how I felt about him once. He disappeared then, but he came back.”

Q froze.

“You can’t mope forever, Q,” she warned him. “Besides, he’ll come back this time. He always does. There’s still life in the old dog and come on, as if he’ll last with Swann. Bond taking up with a psychologist? Psh. I nearly burst out laughing when I watched him walk across the bridge. It won’t last.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Q mumbled. He was typing again but the words were nonsensical, he simply pressing random letters.

“Yes, you do,” Eve said firmly. “Q, nobody thinks any worse of you. We know you and Bond formed a strong bond. Ha! A bond with Bond.” When she received no reaction from Q, she huffed and gave his shoulder a comforting pat. “Like I said, you can talk to me if you need to. You don’t have to feel embarrassed or anything. You aren’t the first, god do I know that, and you certainly won’t be the last.”

Q barked out a laugh and shook his head. The email would need to wait until later as the paperwork was a higher priority. He attached a mouse to his laptop to stop his fingers from getting friction burn. Using a mouse was also faster for navigation. Clicking into his documents, he opened up the files R sent him the previous morning. They weren’t confidential, only important, so Eve’s presence wasn’t an issue. She sighed behind him, then the pair fell silent. It was all too obvious that Q was going to be stubborn about the situation, so Eve gave Q one final affectionate pat and turned to leave.

As she reached the door, she looked over her shoulder and said, “Q darling, make sure you hand wash that cardigan. It will go lumpy in a washing machine.”

“Thanks Eve.”

She smiled. “See you later, dear.”

As her footsteps faded away, Q sighed softly.

“It’s obvious then,” he whispered.

He sat quietly for a few more moments, listening to the buzz of live technology around him. He could hear the whirling of his laptop fan, the air conditioning and the vibrations of his minion’s computers beyond his office walls. They were comforting sounds, familiar.

He needed comfort. He wondered if he maybe should have spoken to Eve, poured his heart out and admitted, finally admitted, that Bond had well and truly wormed his way under Q’s skin. It was his piercing eyes, his broad shoulders, his arrogant smirks, his voice, his demeanour, his boldness, his scars, the violence, the seduction, the loyalty, the smiles, the cups of tea he made Q, the breadth of Bond’s strong hand on his hip, the appreciative glances and the flirtation over the comms – _everything_.

His iPad crashed onto the floor.

“Shit!” Q hissed. He dived down and scooped up the tablet. Turning it over, he saw the screen had a large horizontal crack through it. In frustration, he threw the damn thing at the wall. If his colleagues had heard the crash, something told him they wouldn’t comment.

He couldn’t help empathising with the iPad; he was cracked too.

It was unprofessional to be so careless and impulsive. He needed to control his temper; he was the Quartermaster, a senior member of staff who was meant to lead by example. What example was he currently setting? That it was acceptable to lie to M in order to assist a notorious 00, who provided him with little to no information, with a hair brained scheme. That it was acceptable for a Quartermaster to fall for said notorious agent, and therefore allow him liberties that no other agent could have. Favouritism was frowned upon and Q thought he was a man with a better moral compass but no, he had provided Bond with the best weaponry, coaxed him more gently when he was his handler on a mission, and he had allowed the agent to cross boundaries and flirt with him, whilst he, Q, blushed at his desk like a school girl.

If Bond did return, the tomfoolery had to stop. Q was his superior and he needed to put his foot down. As Quartermaster of MI6, he needed to be professional.

It was time to get over Bond.

**Author's Note:**

> I've tagged this story as being about an unrequited relationship because we only see Q's perspective, therefore we can't be sure whether Bond had taken a genuine interest in Q, or whether he had flirted with his Quartermaster purely for fun.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this short story.
> 
> Please feel free to leave kudos and if you wish, a comment. They make us A03 authors very happy. :)


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